Disclaimer: I solemly swear that I do not own Harry Potter and/or any other characters used in this fic. They are all property of J.K. Rowling.
I didn't mean to do it. But he was glaring at me through those sparkling silver eyes and I couldn't look away. The fury in them would have been enough to turn anyone away.
Up until that moment I never realized why I fought with him so much. Even after that, I still didn't understand.
But he was glaring at me with as much hatred as he could muster. This was the millionth time I'd called him a Miniature Death Eater. It was no different, and yet it was.
He was standing in the corridor, his hands by his sides, balled into fists, glaring at me. No one else was around; they had all gone to class. Why he and I just happened to run into each other at that particular moment, I'll never know.
Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was some kind of a cruel irony. Or maybe it was just a simple coincidence. Whatever it was, it was a mistake.
"Take that back, Potter," he'd growled at me, eyes narrowed and blazing with anger. I wasn't about to let him get the best of me.
"Not on your life," I'd spat back. He let out a howl of rage and fury and launched himself at me.
I don't know what made him do it, but all of a sudden, he was on top of me, hitting every inch he could reach. This was not good. For one, I was bigger than him. I quickly flipped us over and pinned him to the ground.
He was still glaring at me, his eyes full of hatred and disgust. He struggled against me, but I was too strong. I don't know what happened then, but the next thing I knew, I was kissing him.
His eyes were wide with shock as my lips descended upon his. His lips were so soft and full. I couldn't help licking his lower lip. He gasped in surprise and shock and I took my chance.
He whimpered as I thrust my tongue inside his open mouth, nibbling, licking, tasting. Oh god, he tasted good, like an enticing mixture of peppermint and vanilla. I could tell he liked it, though he would never admit to it afterward.
I couldn't stop myself from removing one of my hands that had been keeping him in place and brushing it under his tee-shirt and against his pale skin. He arched into my touch, quite unintentionally, I'm sure. His skin felt amazing. It was soft and smooth and perfect.
He moaned the most gorgeous moan I'd ever heard from a male. We were still kissing and I was quite enjoying it. I decided to take it one step further. I abandoned his mouth, ignoring his noise of protest.
I took a moment to survey him. What the picture he made, panting underneath me, looking at me. I decided that I liked this position, having control.
Control is the one thing I've never really had. I don't have the power to choose what I will do. I am destined to be The Chosen One, the Savior of the Wizarding world. That was decided long before I had any say. But this was control, and I liked it.
I must have waited too long though because in five seconds, he had scrambled out from under me and was backing a safe distance away. He looked angrier than I had ever seen him.
"Malfoy, wait," I'd said to him, just as he was nearly around the corner. He stopped and glared at me, always glaring.
"Don't you ever fucking touch me again, Potter," he'd snarled before disappearing completely.
I knew this wasn't the end. I knew it couldn't be. I didn't know how right I was at the time. How very right, and how, soon, I would violently wish that I had been wrong.
OoOoOoOoO
I didn't mean to. But I did.
It was several months after our first "incident" as I liked to call it. Somehow, his last words hadn't really stuck. We often found ourselves in similar situations time and again.
Eventually, we just said fuck it and let it get on with itself. We gave in. We started meeting for regular snogging sessions. I didn't dare tell anyone for fear of what they would think. "Harry Potter? Snogging the Death Eaters son!"
I couldn't bring myself to even tell Ron or Hermione, no matter how much they pestered me. Most of the time, I just used my invisibility cloak and they were none the wiser.
The "relationship", if you could call it that, soon progressed. I'm not sure how, but one day Draco made a well disguised suggestion that we take it a bit further, just for the hell of it. I don't know why I agreed, but I did.
The first time was awkward. We'd both done it before, but it still felt odd. It got better after that. We met in random places to shag, never thinking anything more of it.
I should have known it would happen. I'd told myself it wouldn't, that I couldn't let it happen, but it did.
The night started out like any other snogging and shagging session. He dragged me into the Room of Requirement. In a tangle of limbs, we fell onto the provided bed. He unceremoniously ripped off my clothes, pulling me on top of him.
He looked so beautiful, lying on the bed naked, waiting for me to start. He grew impatient as I looked at him. He pulled me down into a rough hot kiss. His body arched into mine, desperately needing to be touched. I couldn't help but gasp as his erection brushed against mine.
His hands dragged along my back. His touch was electric, shooting amazing jolts of pleasure through my body. He was already panting and we had barely started. I moved to suck on the perfect skin of his neck. He threw his head back, giving a low moan. The sound sent electrical waves through my body. I wanted to be inside him.
I pulled back to admire the blossoming red flowers on his pale neck. He tugged impatiently on my arm and I looked at him.
His face was flushed a perfect pink color. His normally perfect hair was askew making I him look, if it was possible, even more beautiful. He was breathing hard and his eyes were half closed. I could still see slivers of silver, those eyes that would prove to be my downfall.
"Fuck, Potter," he'd said, "Get on with it." Yes, Potter. He still called me that. And why shouldn't he? This was no relationship, just a way to release tension.
His voice snapped me out of my trance. I reached over for my wand that had been lost amongst the earlier clothes tossing. I found it and preformed the basic lubricant spell that any Hogwarts teen was well acquainted with.
I don't know when it happened, sometime between being pulled through the door and becoming fully buried in his tight ass. Or maybe it had happened a long time ago, even before that first kiss. Well, whenever it happened, I chose that moment.
He was gripping my arm tightly and I was sure there would be marks the next day. I was pounding into him, moving in and out like always. Nothing was different. I moved with him in a rhythmic motion, rocking with his body. I could tell that we were both close. I leaned forward and buried my face in his neck, smelling his unique cologne.
That's when I said it; those three little words that change everything. I didn't realize what I was saying at the time. Later, I would reflect on that moment and wonder if perhaps I had known all along and had meant to say it.
He reached his climax seconds later, crying out my name. My name, not Potter, but my real name. It ripped from his mouth, sounding as if it was the last word he would ever say.
The moment I realized what I had said, I panicked. I didn't know how it had happened. It wasn't supposed to have happened. I couldn't love him. Not him, the son of the most prominent Death Eater, destined to become one himself, but I did.
At first I thought, or rather hoped, that he hadn't heard me, that he had been so wrapped up in the moment that he might not have been paying attention. I was wrong though.
After a few moments of lying in silence, he turned to me, an inscrutable expression on his face.
"What did you say, Potter?" he'd asked shrewdly. I didn't know what to tell him. I knew he already knew, he was just looking for clarification and confirmation. I'd sighed, knowing there was no way out. I turned to look at him, finding his blazing silver eyes trying to pierce my soul.
"I said I love you," I'd replied quietly. I expected him to freak out, to yell that I was insane, and then run from the room, never to see me again.
To my shock, he only nodded and turned his gaze back to the ceiling.
OoOoOoOoO
I didn't mean to. But I couldn't stop him.
A year after our "second incident" as I called it to myself for many years after, the war started. I had my allegiance to the Order. He was wavering, and yet, in the back of my mind, I knew.
I knew what he would choose. I could see it in his eyes every time we were together. It was a mixture of pity and regret. He would have to choose soon and I knew it.
The battles were getting fiercer, more intense. Many people were dying. I hated seeing it all happen, participating in it. By then I'd watched some of my best friends die.
Seamus was killed in the very first raid. He was taken by a Death Eater and tortured for information. When he would give none, he was Crucio'd to death. The Aurors who found his body would tell me nothing of its state.
I'll never forget their faces when they told me the news. Both of them were pale and drained of blood. Their robes were torn and dirty and remnants of dried blood were visible. They refused to tell me anything more about the condition of his body. They walked away as though in a trance and I never saw them again.
I knew the day was coming. I told myself that it wouldn't. I had to stop it. I couldn't let him leave.
One day I went to see him. He'd never allowed us to live together for obvious reasons. No one was to know about us. Ron and Hermione still didn't know, although I think Hermione may have had an inkling by then.
He was standing in the doorway to his bedroom, just staring. I came up behind him and slipped my arms around his waist. He sighed and turned around, walking away from me. I watched him go, confused.
"Draco?" I'd asked, concerned. He'd stopped by the window and was looking out at the smog covered sky of London. He stood there for a moment then looked at me through his sad silver eyes.
"Harry…" he'd said and I knew. It was today. I started to panic. I had known it was coming, but I'd convinced myself that it wouldn't, it couldn't.
"No, Draco," I'd said desperately, tears starting to well up in my eyes. I went over to him and placed a hand on his shoulder. He shrugged it off and moved away from me. I watched him go, not understanding.
"It's time, he needs me," he'd said quietly. This made me angry.
"He needs you!" I had yelled. "What the fuck does he need you for? To help him kill off more innocent people! What about me, Draco! Don't you think that I need you!"
He turned to me then and looked me square in the eye. His gorgeous silver eyes were a molten color as he glared at me, always glaring. To tell the truth, I was almost scared at that moment in time. He advanced on me and I held my breath in apprehension.
"You think I want to do this, Harry?" he spoke in an icily cold voice, sending shivers to my bones. "You think I want to help a madman to destroy the world as we know it? I'll tell you something, I don't. But I have no choice. I will die, sooner or later, it will happen, and you can't save me."
Then he grabbed me and kissed me. The tears that had formed long ago were now falling freely down my face as he kissed me, our last kiss. He broke it suddenly and hugged me then. He'd never hugged me in our entire relationship.
I was too stunned to do anything. If I had been smarter, I might have used the moment to win my case, to keep him.
He kissed my cheek and stepped back from me. I looked at him desperately through watery eyes, trying desperately to come up with something to say, but nothing came.
"The time will come, Harry," he'd told me, "When you won't have a choice, but I know you'll do the right thing."
He left me then, standing in his living room, tears streaming down my face. It wasn't supposed to have happened, but it did. I let him leave.
OoOoOoO
I didn't mean to. But I had no choice.
Silver eyes narrowed at me in the dark, coming ever closer. I was in the forest. The battle raged on, just on the other side. I could hear the yelling, the screams, the curses. But it didn't matter.
Nothing mattered except that pair of undeniably beautiful eyes. They moved stealthily through the darkness. I knew they were not alone, I could sense it.
A light flared up from a wand tip. He stood in front of me, tall and proud. I hadn't seen him in nearly a year. Not much had changed except his face.
It was older, stronger, but tired. Behind him stood his father, sneering at me. I was trapped.
"What are you waiting for, Draco?" Lucius had said. "We've got you, Potter. There's no way out but dead."
I ignored him and looked to Draco. He was trembling slightly but seemed to be trying to keep himself under control. He flinched when his father spoke but Lucius didn't notice. He looked at me, expressing every feeling I knew he felt but couldn't say.
"Draco!" Lucius had snapped. "Do it now!"
He raised his wand, his face set. I knew what was coming, there was no way to escape it. He gave me one last pleading look and I understood. He opened his mouth, but I was quicker.
In less than a second, those words, the ones that had ruined so many lives, torn so many families apart, came out of my mouth. The ones I had refrained from using whenever possible. Those words I despised more than anything in this world came forth
"Harry." I heard one last whisper in the dark and that's when my soul died.
In a flash of heart sickening green, he was dead. Lucius' eyes widened in shock as his only son, heir to the Malfoy line, fell in the darkness of the forest. He turned and ran. I did not follow.
I fell to my knees by his lifeless body, weeping. I hardly ever cried anymore. I wasn't allowed to. I had to be strong for the people.
I couldn't take it though. I broke down for the first time in many years, crying over his body, sprawled on the forest floor.
I don't know how long I stayed there, but someone must have noticed I'd gone. I heard a noise behind me in the trees and whipped around, wand out. The branches swayed eerily as someone pushed their way through.
I braced myself for an attack. I don't think I would have been able to handle anything at that moment. Seconds later, a head of bushy hair emerged from the trees.
It was Hermione. Tears were streaming down her face and she was choking back sobs. The moment she saw me, she launched herself into my arms. I hastily wiped away my own tears from Draco's death and hugged her tightly to me.
"H-Harry," she'd hiccupped. "R-Ron, he's d-dead!"
I hugged her closer as the shock washed over me. My best friend in the world was dead. She cried and cried that night. At length, she raised her wet eyes from my then tear stained shirt, both mine and her tears.
She looked behind me and gasped. I turned away, knowing what she was seeing. She moved behind me and I had no choice but to look.
His silver eyes were open and staring blankly ahead. His wand was still in his hand. He lay in an odd position, almost as though he had meant to fall like that. He was lying on his back with his hands by sides. His shoulders were straight and proud.
Hermione pulled me to her, squeezing my shoulder. I buried my face in her shoulder and cried. I had killed him. I hadn't wanted to, I shouldn't have had to, but I did.
OoOoOoO
It's been one year since that day. The battle rages on and I'm here, gazing at a pure silver stone. I'm on top of a large rolling hill, meadows surrounding it in all directions.
The stone stands alone. There is nothing else around it. A tiny pink rose lies at its foot. I put it there this morning when I arrived.
I'm sitting on the grass staring at the stone. At the base of it is a tiny inscription, barely noticeable. It reads, "You can't save me."
I wish I could bring him back. But wishing never gets you anywhere. When I was younger, I wished to be taken away from my hateful relatives. I got my wish, but I was instead shoved into a world full of its own perils, far worse than the Dursleys.
Then I wished that Voldemort would disappear, but that would never happen. I wished that Draco would stay with me, but that didn't happen either.
And now I sit here wishing he would come back, but he won't.
I didn't mean to. Oh god, I didn't mean to.
I didn't mean to kiss you.
I didn't mean to love you.
I didn't mean to let you go.
And I didn't mean to kill you.
"I'm sorry," I whisper to the air. The breeze whips up around me, rustling the grass lightly. I sit and cry. I can't help it. I needed you and I failed.
Hermione comes up over the crest of the hill and watches me. She has learned to cope without Ron, though I doubt she'll ever be the same.
Finally, she comes over to me and lays a hand on my shoulder. I don't look up. I know why she's here. Today is the end.
One year from today, Hermione will be on this same hill looking at two identical stones. On the second stone, engraved in tiny lettering near the base, in a print so small it is nearly indiscernible to the naked eye, it will read, "I didn't mean to."
A/N: Well? Please don't kill me! This was my first attempt at writing a tragedy... I normally don't like them but I thought I just might give it a shot. Was it bad, good? Neither? Please leave a review, even a tiny one will do.